


Hostile Takeover

by Rasalahuge



Series: Deus ex Mycroft [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, torture via memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasalahuge/pseuds/Rasalahuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hostile takeover: The corporate acquisition or merger of a company which is carried out against the wishes of the board and management</p>
<p>Alternately: Crowley should probably learn something from this situation but he’s not sure what, except that he now totally understands why angels are as they are</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostile Takeover

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don't know who i was kidding when I said this series was done. I'm having way too much fun with this 'verse. Also Mycroft is really demanding.
> 
> This is the first story out of chronological order. It should fit between 'Duty of Care' and 'Emails from the Cage'

**Hostile Takeover**  
**Alternately: Crowley should probably learn something from this situation but he’s not sure what, except that he now totally understands why angels are as they are**

There was someone sat in Crowley’s throne.

This was, understandably, a curious event especially given that the person in question was surrounded by quailing demons that didn’t seem to have the guts to do anything about it. Demons allowed into Crowley’s throne room were, by necessity, the ones whose loyalty he could be most assured of (being demons this meant there was, naturally, only a 30% chance they will stab him in the back for power rather than the average of 85%). Still, given that the person had clearly been there for a while Crowley was curious (and slightly irritated) that no one had notified him. He’d been on Earth, yes, and a lot of things could happen in Hell while he was on Earth simply because of the time difference but a phone call wasn’t difficult.

The person cut an interesting figure as they sat on Crowley’s throne, eyes closed in deep thought and chin perched on interlaced fingers. The person’s appearance was that of a middle-aged human male, Caucasian, with dark ginger hair and very prominent features however in Crowley’s line of work that meant little. Of more interest was the fine tailoring the person wore. Saville Row most certainly, and if Crowley wasn’t mistaken (he never was when it came to tailoring) one of the oldest and most exclusive tailors there. This man wore the dark grey Gieves and Hawkes as a Winchester might wear plaid, casually and as if he were born in it.

Aside from the suit there was very little interesting about the person. His aura had all the appearances of a human, although one remarkably free of sin, with an underlining of extreme arrogance. His elbows were perched on the arms of the throne, his legs were crossed and a black umbrella lay across his lap. The very picture of careless possession, as if he owned the throne, the room it was in and indeed the entire realm.

For a brief moment Crowley entertained the thought that his kingdom had been usurped but he could feel Hell and its millions of tortured souls in the back of his head and knew that wasn’t the case. He was still King of Hell; he just had a very overconfident and stupid visitor.

“Are you lost?” Crowley enquired as he stepped forward towards the throne. The man’s lips twitched.

“No,” He replied in a smooth voice.

“Then perhaps you can explain to me why you are sat in _my_ chair?” Crowley continued mildly letting the annoyance simmer up ready to explode at this interloper. The man opened a pair of piercing grey eyes, unfathomable and intelligent they seemed to look right through Crowley. Though Crowley didn’t let on the gaze disturbed him, and disturbed his instincts which started to scream at him to take evasive manoeuvres.

“Why does anyone sit, unasked, in a chair that another claims as their own?” The man answered with another question and Crowley bristled. The man’s accent identified him as a Londoner, almost certainly Oxbridge educated, and there were few things an 17th century Scotsman hated more, especially when said Oxbridge educated Londoner was _sat in his throne_. With that added to the blatant attempt to rile Crowley the demon’s irritation rose considerably to full on anger, yet he still refused to show more than mild irritation.

“Cute,” Crowley smirked right back at the man, “Out,” He ordered gesturing for the man to leave his chair.

“No,” The man replied smugly, the light of challenge in his eyes. He was practically daring Crowley to try and force him and frankly at this stage Crowley didn’t care enough to wonder why.

“Boys,” The King of Hell ordered sharply and the quailing demons glanced from the mysterious man to their boss and made the correct decision. They flocked to his side, “I don’t know who you are, or how you even got in here but let me make this inescapably clear. Get out of my chair or suffer the worst Hell has to offer,” Crowley kept his voice calm and level but his eyes flashed scarlet in warning. The man however did not seem all that intimidated.

“No,” He repeated and Crowley’s eyes narrowed.

“Very well then,” He looked pointedly at a pair of demons who, somewhat nervously, started forward to remove the man forcibly. They didn’t make it more than five paces. The man’s quicksilver eyes narrowed and both demons crumpled to the floor screaming in agony as their bodies boiled and melted. Crowley watched, moderately impressed, as the demons disintegrated from nothing more than a look, until the very ash that formed them disappeared and the last of the screams faded.

“Impressive, for a human,” Crowley’s words were more a taunt than an observation and the man clearly knew it, however he snorted, clearly amused.

“I think at this stage it should be fairly obvious Mr Macleod. I am not human,” The name startled Crowley, badly. It wasn’t so long ago that the Winchester’s and their father-figure Singer had discovered his original name and thus located his bones but Crowley had been very careful to ensure that name did not go any further than the hunters and their pet angel. Yet here was this mysterious guest, powerful but still appearing as nothing more than a human – and not even a witch at that – who somehow knew that name.

“Where did you hear that name?” Crowley asked eyes narrowing.

“I have my ways,” The man answered without answering. The Crowley’s back the remaining demons were fidgeting nervously and it occurred to Crowley that he didn’t want his reputation ruined it was about time to ditch the audience.

“Clear the room!” He barked the order turning to glare at the nearest demon. Wisely they all fled and the doors of the throne room crashed shut behind them. Crowley turned back to his visitor, “Who are you?”

“An interested party,” The man replied letting his hands drop casually to his lap where he occupied them by spinning the umbrella back and forth. “I have a few matters I need to discuss with you Mr Macleod before I let you go on your way.”

“Crowley,” The King of Hell corrected automatically, “My name is Crowley,”

“Your name is Fergus Macleod, son of Rowena Macleod and one of her multitude of paramours. You were born in Glasgow in the backroom of a bar and spent the first eight years of your life travelling around Scotland with your mother, a powerful witch, on business relating to the Grand Coven. At eight she abandoned you in Canisbay where you grew up, apprenticed to a tailor, married and eventually turned to witchcraft yourself.” The man said and Crowley swallowed, unable to stop himself. This was more than knowing his name, those sorts of details just weren’t available anymore. Not unless someone who actually lived them had given them away.

“Are you by any chance acquainted with my mother?” Crowley hadn’t seen her since he was eight but he would be a fool to think she wasn’t still alive – if for no other reason than he had never encountered her in Hell.

“Not personally,” The man replied, “Although I know of her. No Mr Macleod I am here for a reason quite unrelated to your family drama,” Crowley grimaced but realised that if the man knew so much about him then chances were he could also find Crowley’s bones. He had no option but to stand here and listen, at least until he discovered something about this man he could use. He did not want to chance attacking him and seeing if the man had the power to stop the King of Hell in his tracks as well. 

“Well then, I’m all ears,” He offered politely, shifting his posture back to casual, although he slipped one hand in his jacket pocket so he could clench his fist out of sight.

“Firstly you will be pleased to learn, I am sure, that Castiel and Raphael have settled their differences. The Heavenly civil war is over, without further bloodshed, and the Apocalypse is off the table permanently,” Shite, Crowley thought, if the civil war _was_ over then Castiel would no doubt renege on their deal and he needed Castiel to keep everyone else busy and not focusing on what Hell was doing.

“Furthermore the soul of Mr Samuel Winchester has been successfully retrieved from the Cage and restored to his body,” The man added. Double shite, Crowley thought, there went his leverage over the boys as well.

“What lovely news,” He lied. He was fairly sure the man knew that given the way his eyes lit up with amusement.

“Indeed it is,” The man smiled thinly, “With this in mind I have a request to make of you.” He paused here for dramatic effect and Crowley wondered if the man was a politician or a business man or both, he certainly knew how to sell his words. “It’s a small matter, quite simple really. Not at all difficult for the King of Hell,”

“You’re flattery needs work,” Crowley interrupted him and the man smirked.

“Depends on what I am attempting to do,” He replied, “No matter. A particular soul is going to be coming into your realm in the not too distant future. This soul belongs to a human man who is, quite frankly, one of the most dangerous humans to have ever been born. Really you should be thanking me for pre-warning you of his existence, because rest assured he can and will take control of Hell from you if given half a chance.”

“I’m not an easy person to dispose of,” Crowley replied, “As Lucifer found out to his detriment,” At the name of the archangel the man’s face tightened infinitesimally. Not something that most would notice but Crowley was, at the end of the day, a Salesman and reading his customers (read: victims) was the most crucial part of any sale.

“James Moriarty is quite a different creature altogether to Lucifer,” The man replied his voice still mild and calm but there was a weight to the words that hadn’t been there before and Crowley almost smiled. Now he was getting somewhere.

“A human worse than the Devil himself? Maybe I should be recruiting him rather that whatever it is you have planned,” He said and the man’s face tightened yet again.

“You would regret it, swiftly,” He replied, “James Moriarty does not answer to anyone but himself, he does not obey rules, and he does not do anything that is not in his best interests. I am in fact surprised that you haven’t come across his name before during your time at the crossroads. He does much the same work. A consulting criminal, as he calls it. He has a vast network of criminals and contacts and, for a price, will arrange any crime you care to imagine and he is _good_ at it. There has not been a human with his intellect in several centuries, he is by any standards far beyond genius level yet he does not have any moral compass or conscience to go with that,” Frankly, Crowley admitted to himself, this man sounded like he was halfway to demon already. Crowley wasn’t stupid, he could see how dangerous this man clearly was, he was essentially doing Crowley’s job but from Earth and with much greater limitations, “The only relief we currently have is that Moriarty remains oblivious of the supernatural. This will, naturally enough, change once he dies and comes here, to Hell,”

“And all human souls that go to Hell eventually become demons,” Crowley finished for him, “If he is as you say then he will change quickly, rise up the ranks even faster and rule Hell the same way he rules his current network.”

“At which point he will return to Earth and start causing no end of problems,” The man nodded, “I am… gratified you can see the issue I am currently facing,”

“So why not petition to Heaven to have his soul smote from existence? I am assuming you have contacts there, else you wouldn’t know about the end of the war,” Crowley pointed out.

“I have considered it,” The man replied, “However I’d like to keep that option as a back-up. Destroying someone like James Moriarty so utterly could have repercussions further down the line that I would like to avoid,”

“How so?” Crowley enquired.

“There is a balance in this universe, between good and evil. Between light and darkness as it were. That balance is more or less self-sustaining. A man such as James Moriarty ties up a great deal of darkness in one place, and thus far is relatively straight forward to mitigate. Destroying him would upset things temporarily and cause a dramatic swing in the balance. The effects would be felt for centuries and I would rather avoid that mess,” The man answered.

“So instead you’ve come to me to… what?” Crowley prompted.

“Several of my employees are currently building a prison in the deepest parts of the Pit. It will be similar in concept to Lucifer’s Cage but in reality very different. It is designed for the single purpose of containing James Moriarty indefinitely. I want you, Mr Macleod, to ensure that on his arrival in Hell Moriarty goes immediately to his prison and remains there. The key, as it were, will be thrown away and lost and Moriarty will cause no one any further problems,” The man explained. It was, Crowley admitted, a simple task. One that would not cost him anything and would, if this Moriarty was as the man said, take care of a very large threat to his throne. Yet…

“And what, may I ask, do I get in return?” Crowley enquired, “I am all for mitigating threats to my personage but I can do that easily by shredding this Moriarty until the only thing left of him is a hazy memory. Or I can arrange for him to fall prey to the Winchesters, which amounts to the same thing. Why should I just lock up such a threat and trust that he won’t get out again? We all thought the same of Lucifer and see how that turned out,” 

“I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement on compensation,” The man said more musing than a statement of fact. As he did so he looked up pointedly and gazed at the doors behind Crowley. “Ah I see work has already been completed, ahead of schedule. Excellent,” The man said. Even as he did so the doors to the throne room opened and Crowley’s awareness was flooded with the presence of three angels.

Two he didn’t recognise but he didn’t really need to. The presence of an archangel was unmistakable, let alone two, their weight and enormous power dwarfed anything in Hell. Granted it was slightly confusing because as far as Crowley was aware there was only one archangel left but he wasn’t about to ignore what his senses were telling him. The final angel was a mere shadow next to the archangels but he was a familiar shadow, one that Crowley knew intimately.

Apparently the man hadn’t been lying, not if Castiel and Raphael were here in Hell together and not trying to kill one another.

“Bollocks,” He murmured more to himself than anything as he turned to face down Heaven’s mightiest. Raphael looked about as impressed by this whole situation as Crowley felt and was shooting daggers at the other archangel. Castiel seemed torn between censure and amusement and settled on glaring at Crowley. The other archangel however was grinning manically which was a disturbing sight on someone as powerful as that.

“I _re_ -ally don’t know _what_ you’re worried about Raphie,” He said his voice drawling and amused, “It’s not like I didn’t follow the containment procedures to the letter and that’s the important part. I only added some extra entertainment,”

“We were _supposed_ to follow the instructions _to the letter_ ,” Raphael countered, “Not entertain ourselves with trivialities,”

“It’s not trivialities!” The other archangel protested, “It’s a very well thought out addition to the punishment. Isn’t that what new-and-improved!Hell is all about? Clever psychological torture?”

“What has Gabriel done now?” The man in Crowley’s throne enquired and Crowley glanced at the unknown archangel, or not so unknown. Gabriel? Wasn’t he dead? Crowley was pretty sure he remembered listening into that conversation between the Winchesters.

“He made a small addition to the prison,” Castiel reported in a way that Crowley would call dutiful, except that Castiel hadn’t _been_ dutiful for a good long while which made the whole situation even more puzzling. “I do not understand the meaning behind the animation of a cat made from pastry and a rainbow however I have to admit the music was extremely annoying. Is it some kind of torture humans have invented?” He looked puzzled as Crowley translated from Cas-speak to English.

“Nyan cat? What does nyan cat have to do with anything?” He asked before he could really think things through.

“It’s going to play, the ten hour long version, at random in Moriarty’s new room. He can’t turn it off, or mute it, or do anything at all to stop it,” Gabriel looked extremely smug at this. Crowley considered nyan cat, considered the implications and then looked at the archangel with something approaching respect and a healthy amount of fear.

“That’s inspired,” He admitted and Gabriel flashed him a brilliant smirk.

“It’s what I do,” He replied, “Crowley I assume?” He asked but it was clearly rhetorical because he was looking back at the man in Crowley’s throne with a pleading expression before the demon could even react. “You’ll let me leave it won’t you? I mean it’s _inspired_ ,” He batted his eyelids in a ridiculous manner, probably because he was clearly aware that an innocent look was not going to work.

“And when Moriarty gets used to nyan cat?” The man enquired and Gabriel’s expression lit up.

“Oh that’s when it gets good! Because I can update it with new memes without even getting near the prison and let’s be honest I have _dozens_ I can pick from. I was thinking ‘we’re taking the hobbits to isengard’ next but I have to remain flexible in case something infinitely more annoying turns up in the meantime,” The look of pure childish glee on the face of the archangel was, in fact, far more terrifying than the thought of the man in Crowley’s throne burning his bones. Crowley didn’t even know it was _possible_ to be that ridiculously terrifying while being overly childish and he was the King of Hell.

The man on the throne looked at Gabriel considerately, clearly weighing the pros and cons to allowing the archangel free reign.

“I’ll allow it,” He eventually agreed and Gabriel looked about ready to hit the roof in delight, “However,” The man cut in and Gabriel froze, “Next time I expect you to _ask_ first Gabriel.” He paused there for no other reason than dramatic effect, “I may have some suggestions,” He added with a small smirk. Gabriel, Raphael and Castiel all stared at the man, wide eyed and shocked before Gabriel burst into thrilled laughter.

“Dad you are literally the best,” He said through the insane giggles.

That was about the moment Crowley was hit by a four-by-four of realisation.

There was only one being in all of existence that could command archangels, one being that could so easily dismiss a civil war in Heaven with no further bloodshed. There was in fact only one being that any angel would call any variant of the word ‘Dad’.

And Crowley had not only threatened him but also tried to extort him.

“Bollocks,” he said again staring at the man who wasn’t a man at all but in actual fact the Creator of Everything.

“Ah,” God looked at him in amusement, “I was wondering when you would catch up Mr Macleod. For reference I find the name Mycroft Holmes works much better in casual conversation,” He looked extremely smug. “I do believe, before we were interrupted, we were discussing compensation for assisting us in this matter,”

Now Crowley was not unintelligent. Granted he had taken a stand against Lucifer but that had been more or less self-preservation, although even then he’d been eying up the throne of Hell, despite it being the stupid path to take. Normally however he took the most expedient and sensible route and today was no exception. He considered his odds, given what he had done in the past, at ending up as anything other than atoms floating in a void if he refused to help and made the sensible choice.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary Mr Holmes,” He said smoothly, “After all Hell is here to provide a service, it would be remiss of us to not fulfil our obligations. I’m sure I can arrange for Mr Moriarty to be taken to his new accommodation post haste upon his arrival,”

“How very gracious,” Holmes said with eyes that read every inch of Crowley and clearly found it wanting. Well he _was_ a demon. Of course he was found wanting. “In that case there is just one _small_ matter we need to discuss before I depart,”

“I am all ears,” Crowley answered smoothly.

“Good,” Holmes smirked at him, “Castiel, the forms if you please,” Crowley glanced at the angel whose glare had transformed into a very smug expression that the demon just _knew_ he had learned from the Winchesters. He stepped forward, a clipboard covered in papers materialising in his hands.

“Mr Macleod when I lock something up I expect it to _remain_ locked up,” Holmes said as Castiel handed Crowley the clipboard. Glancing down at the forms they seemed to be some kind of contract, and not the sort he was used to from the crossroads. “Lucifer was something of an anomaly and I’d like for it to remain that way. Therefore you must understand that I cannot allow you to continue your goal towards opening Purgatory,”

“Sign here please,” Castiel said with an expectant expression as he offered Crowley an exquisite fountain pen.

“Pleased with yourself are we?” Crowley sniped, “Daddy’s favourite again?”

“No,” Castiel said, “However I learned a great deal from my time with the Winchesters. Including how to enjoy irony and vindictive retribution,” The angel pressed the pen into Crowley’s hand, “Sign here please,”

“Certainly,” Crowley scoffed and took the pen. He didn’t know what he was signing and he hated that but he also knew he didn’t have much of an option. If it was just Castiel he might have had half a chance of talking his way out but with two archangels and God in the room…

He signed the forms everywhere Castiel pointed at and the angel smiled.

“Thank you,” He took the clipboard and pen back and lifted one of the sheets of paper off, “This is your copy,” He said and then turned to take the clipboard directly to his Father.

“What did I just sign?” Crowley asked looking down at the paper in his hand.

“A merger agreement,” Holmes answered simply and Crowley blanched, “Hell is now a subsidiary of Heaven. You will retain your position as head of the department however you will be directly answerable to Raphael, as CEO of Heaven, and Castiel as her PA and chair of the board of directors. Gabriel, naturally, eschews traditional managerial roles but I’m sure you can understand that disobeying him would not be in your best interests,”

“This is a hostile takeover,” Crowley stared in amazement and horror at the man in his throne.

“Yes, it is,” Holmes answered tucking the pen away and glancing through the papers now on his lap. “This all seems to be in order. Thank you Mr Macleod for your cooperation, I am sure you and Heaven will have a profitable relationship,” The man stood then, taking up his umbrella in one hand as he did so. The clipboard of papers settled into the other. He fixed Crowley then with a stare that had the demon trembling in utter terror.

“Let me make this inescapably clear. Attempt to circumvent this agreement, or continue attempting to open Purgatory and you will regret it. My punishments aren’t nearly as nice as Gabriel’s are,” Holmes informed him and then, between one blink and the next, he was gone.

“Right then,” Gabriel said cheerfully as if he hadn’t just watched Crowley get threatened, “This has been fun, but I need to get going before I’m late for work. Cassie, kid, great seeing you again, don’t be a stranger. Raph, do us all a favour and remove that stick from your ass,” The archangel nodded at his siblings and then he too was gone.

“Immature brat,” Raphael grumbled under her breath along with several choice phrases in enochian which Crowley assumed were curses. If there was such a thing as enochian curses that is and not just insults. “Castiel I’m sure you’ll find much more satisfaction in finishing up here than I?” She enquired.

“Of course Raphael,” Castiel nodded looking at Crowley with an expression that at first glance was emotionless but on closer inspection was a little too close to anticipation for Crowley’s comfort. “I will see you in Heaven shortly,”

“Have fun,” Raphael said blandly and then she too disappeared. That left Crowley with Castiel who was, apparently, his new boss.

Crowley was screwed.


End file.
